Working hard, or hardly working?

My brother and I have had an ongoing argument about exercising for the past two years, give or take a few months. It's not the usual brotherly dustup about who's drunker than whom*, or whether Eric Gagne should be a starter or reliever**. We've been arguing at a very low level about the benefits of cardio on the various elliptical machines found on the floor at most decent gyms. He's vehemently anti-machine, and I'm mildly pro-Skynet.

*fake, though probably one that could and should have been discussed at many points in the last eight years.
**Sadly, a real historical argument that ended badly.

As currently constructed, the argument goes something like this.

CT: "Those cardio machines don't challenge you enough to truly get you in shape."

BT: "I'm out of shape so badly that I need to build up to the more strenuous stuff."

CT: "You don't challenge yourself enough to make any progress."

BT: "Shut up, I hate you....pass me the french fries."

Obviously that's a rough translation, but it neatly encapsulates much of my weight loss efforts to date. Work on the easier stuff with an eye towards increasing intensity at a later date, while not really doing much about my diet.

Well I'm happy to report that is not the case as of the beginning of last week. I went grocery shopping at Whole Food and elsewhere, and have been making my own balanced meals, including lots of fruit and vegetables, whole grains and chicken and turkey in lieu of red meat. In addition, I've been to the gym five times in the last eight days, and meeting my minimum goal of exercising at least four times every week. I've increased my exercise times on the machines, and started tracking my progress lifting weights. Basically I've been doing all the things I set out to do at the beginning of this chronicle two years ago.

It's nice to be motivated for the first time in what seems forever, and it's a topic we'll be discussing more of in the weeks to come. Hell, there might be some graphs and pie charts and stuff. Suggestions are welcome. Cheers.

Answering the Bell

Hi there, dear readers. I hope you're ready for an exciting new announcement here on NOTMY.

Waiting...

Waiting...

OK, here it is. After much free international texting on WhatsApp for the iPhone, Alice and I have decided to rekindle our weight loss competition. Since she's so busy with the new job and all, neither of us has posted in quite a while, but I'm taking the liberty of releasing this bombshell on the world while Alice is working her 9 to 8 job. The rules are the same as last time. While I don't exactly remember what those are, having started this post without reviewing, I recollect it went a little somethin' like this:

-Weigh-ins are on Monday morning, weekly for four weeks.
-Contestants are on the honor system for reporting.
-No metric system allowed. It's the King's ludicrous measure of weight or nothing.
-To protect the dignity of the participants, measurement will start at zero and decrease to negative numbers as weight is (hopefully) lost by both participants.

Technically I believe there was a final requirement for a certain amount of posting by each of the participants, describing our ordeals and tribulations and successes. I'm fairly certain Alice will not be fulfilling those parts of her duties for reasons described above. So you will have to settle for me and my reporting. Wish us luck, follow us here on the blog and perhaps check my Twitter account for news of new postings. I can be found at www.twitter.com/Blako36. Cheers.

Blako and Alice.

JRR Tolkien would be proud

Hey all, by which I obviously mean my four dedicated readers. Who anxiously check this blog hoping beyond hope that this is the month I decided to post for the sixth time in 2009. And clearly love me far more than I deserve. Though this love has not manifested itself in anything resembling an offer to clean my condo, nor drive me to the grocery store.

(sigh)

As usual, I digress, albeit more whiningly than usual.

No comments, please.

Where was I? Oh, right. Continuing this blog's strongest theme, I'm back and promising to write more frequently than historically has been the case. Laugh if you've heard this one before. Mostly it's just a case of me being really bored, and deciding that it's been too long since I've written anything longer than a Facebook status update, or more interesting than a cover letter. We'll have some new features, some positive mental attitude, and also as usual, overly descriptive stories about trying to go to the gym and failing. Get excited!

Uncertainty

I write this latest post with no knowledge whatsoever of what my competition is doing. As certain readers have noted, there's been an astonishing amount of silence from the participants in the DYJCMF challenge. (By the way, while we're on the subject, we need to come up with a new name for round 2 of this challenge, Alice. I swear it takes me a full minute to type DYJCMF.) I am sorry about that, especially for the newer readers who haven't yet gotten used to being disappointed by NOTMY on a regular basis. Had a bit of a busy week two weeks ago, when I was getting an application to work for the FDIC ready, as well as meeting with some people about this damnable job search. So there was exercising being done, I just didn't have time to write about it.

So I'll give you an update now. The week four weight loss was either nil, or plus eight pounds, depending on a quirk of measurement. You see, the weekend that ended week four was spent in Louisville for my brother's 30th birthday. The diet that weekend mainly consisted of beer, whiskey, soda water and cheeseburgers. So I got back on Sunday, weighed myself on Monday, and the scale showed I had put on eight pounds. That was a bit of a shocker, as you can imagine. All my hard work had been erased in a single weekend of debauchery. So I hit the gym on Monday after weighing myself, and tried to kill off the remnants of a pretty decent hangover. Tuesday morning, I weighed myself again just to see what the deal was, and I was back to my week three weight, -5.6 pounds. I don't really know what happened, other than perhaps the combo of high sodium and lots of water consumed to kill the hangover left me looking at the scale in disbelief. I'm just glad that the weight gain wasn't permanent. I'm chalking that one up to a warning about working out, abusing alcohol, and not eating right.

The good news is this, after the initial panic of Monday, I continued the normal regimen, including a cardio kickboxing class, and lost another three pounds. So we're down 8.5 for the challenge, dear readers. Hoping that I can sneak out a serious come-from-behind victory, though it's looking doubtful at this point. I'm checking with Alice as we speak about the deadline for this contest, but it's coming down to the wire, and I've got some serious work to do. More to come soon.

The Follow Through

So part three of this begins with a discussion of exactly how sore my legs got from three sets of squats. I should have known I was in trouble the night of the class, since we both know, dear reader, damn well that I haven't done squats or lunges in months. Compounding the deserved lack of shock is the fact that I could literally feel my quads swollen beyond their normal size as of late. I mean, it was like I had actual leg muscles again from the good old days playing soccer. I conveniently ignored these facts until Thursday morning, when getting out of bed, then walking to the couch, then sitting down all caused me to groan in agony. It turns out that doing squats also activates your glutes in a fierce way. Fun times.

So the weekend came, and there was much standing around at the Hawks game, which was bad, but not as bad as it could have been. Dare I say, I felt like my legs responded pretty well to the beating I put on them Monday and then Wednesday. There comes a point with leg workouts for me that is particularly noticeable, when I build up enough muscle to keep my knees from aching like crazy while working out, standing around, walking down the street. We've hit that point in the three weeks of working out, and it's pretty great. It makes doing everything a much easier proposition. Walking places instead of taking the bus becomes an option, ditto for riding the bike.

Anyway, point of all this is that I really am enjoying the fruits of my labor. I feel good, and I am losing a pretty decent amount of weight in weeks where I really push myself. And so Monday came around again last night, and I hit the abs class for the second week in a row. I still feel a bit like a fish out of water, and am definitely working my way up to grace with the workouts, but it seems like I'm over the fear of being the out of shape loser taking a class. If anything, I was motivated to go back and prove that the class didn't get the better of me. My stomach is getting sore on pace with the last week, but I performed at a higher level this class than I did last week. That, my friends, is progress. Boring, steady progress.

The Aftermath

So, we're setting up this story in at least two parts, and perhaps more if the mood strikes me. For those of you who are just checking in, you'll probably want to read from the bottom up, since lots of this won't make sense otherwise. Continuing our story from last time, let's check in with our hero.

"Hey there self, day one after the class doesn't feel so bad. My legs were dead tired after those squats last night, but perhaps all that time on the elliptical will keep me from getting sore. Thus far, abs feel good, definitely a little sore, but firmer. And hey, will you look at that! I've lost two pounds since yesterday!"

"Hey, self, it's now Wednesday, approximately 40 hours after taking the class, and sure, you're a little sore, but that's the price you pay for getting a good workout in. We've got a busy day, so let's go to the gym and get in a tough 45 minutes on the elliptical, then go fill out the application for the new job lead, and head to rehearsal for the Friday gig."

"Couple beers couldn't hurt when you're at rehearsal, right? Right. Besides, if you were going to get sore, you'd have done so by now. It's been forty eight hours."

"Hmph. Wassat? No, Indy, I don't think we should check out that snake pit. It looks. dangero...OWWWW! HOLY MERCIFUL MOTHER OF GOD, SOMEONE IS STICKING A KNIFE INTO MY STOMACH. CRAP, CRAP, CRAP, CRAP. OWWWWW!"

In case you couldn't tell, that was my internal dialogue at various points in the days after the workout. I was fine, then in excruciating pain for forty-eight hours from Wednesday to Friday, then surprisingly not bad again on Friday. I even went and chased some softballs around a field with Dollar Bill and BILF on Friday. Felt a bit lighter on my feet, and even managed to run down a few when they were hit in my general direction. Things were setting up nicely for part three.

Sneaking Out the Back

Greetings, loyal readers, and fellow competitors in the DYJCMF challenge. It's been a while since posting, and I am definitely in egregious violation of the DYJCMF agreement. Luckily, Alice hasn't exactly been pulling her weight over in London, both on the blog front and unfortunately for me, quite literally. She's down 14 pounds. She's kicking my ass in this challenge. The good news is that there are no real losers here. I'm proud of Alice and her hard work. She's certainly forcing me to be more disciplined than usual. So it's with a small sense of accomplishment that I am happy to report a week three weigh-in loss total of 5.6 pounds.

To catch you guys up, that's a total of +1.4 pounds for the first week (going the wrong direction!), a net loss of 0.6 pounds to the good for week two, and a net loss of 5.6 pounds for week three. I lost two pounds in the second week, and five pounds in week three, for those of you who don't like doing the math. So for now, I'm losing the contest by 8.4 pounds. However, I like my chances to catch up in the next few weeks, and I'll tell you why.

Eight days ago, in the face of a seven pound weight loss in one week from Alice, my brother finally talked me into taking a class at the gym with him. He's claimed for a while now that it's the same as hiring a personal trainer, but you don't have to pay someone an additional 120 bucks per session. Now the reason I'd never taken one before wasn't because I didn't believe him, but that I was afraid to walk in there, take five minutes of the class, pass out, throw up or some combination of the two, and then leave a defeated sweaty mess. But desperate times call for desperate measures. So, I gathered my dignity, wrapped it in a towel, and tossed it in the trash just outside Workout Studio 1. My brother set me up with all the accoutrements for Abs/Total Body Lifting, padded mat, medicine ball, hand weights, and best of all, a spot in the back by the door.

So we were sitting there way early, watching people filter in, grab mats and find spots. Not just any people, mind you, pretty much the Greek goddesses of Lincoln Park all walk in, give me the stinkeye, and take their places. We're talking about pretty much the creme de la creme of the Equinox fitness crowd. The kind of people who interview for jobs like "Girl in Bikini #1" and sideline on-air talent for ESPN. Turns out I've been working out with the peons out on the floor. It was intimidating as all hell. (side note for the fellas, despite the intimidation factor, the scenery was definitely motivating. Sorry, ladies.)

Anyway, class started, and I gave it the old college try. There was a bit of a learning curve with all the moves, and a bit of trying to decipher the overhead sound system, but I made it through the first fifteen minutes of class winded but feeling ok. Of course, the first fifteen minutes were the Abs portion. Even at my best, I wasn't nearly at the level of everyone else in class, although I tried. Then came the second part, the Total Body Lifting. We started out with three sets of twelve squats each, while holding a medicine ball. I can't really tell you what happened after that, because the abs workout caught up with me, I got really lightheaded, and stepped out for a drink of water. Once I got out into the cool air, I was done for. The lightheadedness turned into full on threat of passing out, and I got pretty nauseous. So I made it into the locker room upstairs, sat down on the couch, and pretty much sat there a defeated sweaty mess. And I felt great.

Sure, I realized that I'm way out of shape compared to people who've taken those classes for months, or even people who haven't, but it felt good to have broken through the initial resistance and fear to try something I knew was going to suck. I'm still not ready for the Total Body Lifting class any time soon, but it's become clear how much work I have to put in to get there.